


Waltz of the Snowflakes

by orphan_account



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Action/Adventure, BlackIce, Christmassy title that has nothing to do with Christmas, Dark!Jack, F/M, Fatherly!North, Gen, Jack joins Pitch but Mother Nature set them up, M/M, MiM is the master of mixed messages, Mother Nature adopts Jack Frost, chessmaster!seraphina, more tags added as they become relevant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-10 20:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Frost. </p><p>Pitch thinks he's a chance at a family.</p><p>Seraphina thinks he's her father's salvation.</p><p>Indeed, people think Jack Frost is many things. They think he's trouble. They think he's a murderer, a thief, and a vandalist.</p><p>So when the Man in the Moon sends a message saying he's aiding Pitch Black, no one is too surprised. The Guardians know they must stop Pitch, and if Jack is involved, they'll stop him, too. There's just one problem; they read the message wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Winter Sprite

The voices whispered through her long, dark hair, through her golden skin, through her eyes. Everything whispered to Seraphina. Everything whispered its love, its hatred, its light, its darkness, and all those whispers filled Seraphina. She’d answer them all, with her fingertips and lips and soul.

 

It began with a whisper, as most things do. The North-west wind, one of the younger ones, flitted about Seraphina’s head, ruffling her hair. The younger winds were the most difficult to hear. They spoke in odd, fragmented, emotionally-charged thoughts that were sometimes barely coherent, but Mother Nature was well-experienced, so there was no mistaking it when Seraphina heard the first, faint whisper _Jack frost of frost Jack Frost._

Seraphina paused, letting the world slowly drift into focus, so she could focus on the single, soft whisper. She lay in a field of cotton, watching the fluffy stalks bend in the breeze. Idly, she plucked a sticky ball of cotton from the brittle branch and flicked it away. The North-west wind caught it easily, giddy with joy, and pounced on it like a house cat. _White, white snow! Soft, white, Luna, frost!_

Seraphina frowned and sat back on her elbows. “ _Luna_?” she asked, a cold feeling coming to her chest.

 

The cotton dropped to the ground, and the wind _trembled._ The creature tried to hide its feelings, but it was too young, too inexperienced to hide anything from Mother Nature, who knew everything. “Luna,” Seraphina repeated. “Who is that?”

 

 _Luna, bright, white—sky! Artemis, Selena—moon! The man in the moon! Yes yes yes. Winter sprite ice elf beautiful I love him pretty_ so _pretty!_

Seraphina stood abruptly, snapping the cotton’s branches. The earth wept, and the plants bowed their heads, sensing their Guardian’s anger. The Man in the Moon thought he’d invade _her_ duties and _her_ realm, did he? He thought that he could create winter sprites? Oh, no, that would never pass. Nature belonged to _Seraphina_. The wind shivered, trembled, and cried. _No no no!_ the wind sobbed. _Like ice pretty dainty fragile please mommy don’t break him don’t hurt him he’s beautiful I love him jack dear jack jack frost—_

“That’s enough,” said Seraphina. “Take me to him.”

 

The wind whipped about, scattering cotton and leaves, plucking at Seraphina’s hair and clothes. _No no! I can’t don’t be angry I want him so innocent and pure and pretty and snow and—_

“Take me to him,” Seraphina repeated.

 

She was Mother Nature. It wasn’t as if the wind, especially one as weak as the North-west, could argue with her. _You won’t break him will you mommy?_ The wind asked, one last feeble plea for her winter sprite.

 

“Of course not,” Seraphina said. “I’ll _butcher_ him.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was cold around the lake where the wind placed Seraphina. Mother Nature felt the wind pull away from her and dragged it struggling back to her side. “No, you don’t,” she murmured. “The Man in the Moon must answer for this.”

 

_But mommy! Jack jack frost too pretty and young and brilliant warn him please give a change jack pretty jack brave boy—_

Seraphina shook her head. Nature was balance, the balance of everything, and she was certain she’d slain prettier, younger, and more brilliant than the likes of Jack Frost, which seemed to be the spirit’s name. There was a full moon, bathing the forest and lake in silver. So the Man in the Moon was around, was he? Perfect.

 

Seraphina strode from the shelter of the trees and towards the edge of the lake. The wind hadn’t betrayed her; the new winter sprite must be there somewhere. Well, he couldn’t be too difficult to find. Seraphina glanced towards the moon. “No words?” she asked tartly. “You do know why I’m here, don’t you?”

 

“Who are you talking to?”

 

The voice was curious and youthful. Seraphina allowed herself a small smile as she turned to her left. There, in a large tree, sat the spirit. He was young and pretty, like the wind had said. He was willow-thin with hair as white as snow and silver-blue eyes. He was dressed like one of the colonists, which seemed to be what the Man had created him from. Yes, the Man in the Moon _had_ created something beautiful, and as the artist of all nature, Seraphina respected that. She’d still destroy his sprite, though.

 

The sprite’s eyes widened. “You’re looking at me,” he said.

 

“Yes.”

 

The sprite stepped lightly from the tree, holding a staff loosely in one hand. “And talking to me.”

 

“My, you’re a clever one, aren’t you?” Seraphina deadpanned.

 

Suddenly, the boy grinned widely, crossed the few steps between them, and touched Seraphina’s hand. He _dared_ to touch _her_. Seraphina shrieked and brought her power forth. How _dare_ he? The North Wind threw him away into a pile of brambles, the boy’s staff clattering to the ground.The brambles tightened and twisted around him. The sprite yelled. He kicked and struggled, and angry, Seraphina made them tighter. He didn’t stop until a half-dead, but very sharp vine wrapped around his throat and made him bleed. The sprite remained there, barely able to move, and gasped for breath. Seraphina had a mind to snap the boy’s neck. As she strode towards him, she heard the thorns call to her, asking for _more, more of cruel winter’s blood!_

Seraphina twirled around and laughed. “Come, Man in the Moon! Protect your charge!” she screamed. “I know he’s yours!”

 

There was no answer. “I’ll kill him!” she shouted.

 

 _Do it!_ The thorns urged her. _Do it! Make blood bloom and blossom and feed us, Mother!_

_No no no!_ the wind screeched. _Jack! Mommy please please please! Mine my winter my favorite mine!_

Seraphina took a deep breath and tightened the thorns and vines. The sprite made a strangled whimper. “I’ll break his neck,” she said, eyes on the moon. “Don’t think I won’t.”

 

There was still no answer. Seraphina watched the moon for a long moment. It remained silent. The North-west wind blew through Mother Nature’s hair, still pleading, begging. Seraphina waved the wind away. She’d made her promise to the Man, and besides, winds were fickle things. “You’ll find something else to dote over,” said Seraphina.

 

 _Don’t want to_ the wind screamed. _I want him jack mine I love him love him mommy!_

 

Seraphina finally turned around to look at her work, at the Man’s pretty winter sprite, speckled with warm blood and bound tightly in thorns and vines. The North-west sobbed and wrapped around the winter sprite, flailing through his hair and clothes and shaking the vines in a vain attempt to help. The poor wind never seemed to realize that jostling the vines made the thorns drag raggedly through the sprite’s skin.

 

Seraphina walked closer until she stood before him, close enough to touch him. She saw the tears cabochon on his pale face and the fear-filled eyes. “What did I do wrong?” he gasped.

 

“Nothing at all.”

 

“Then, why—”

 

“Because you belong to him,” said Seraphina, pointing to the moon, “And he’s overstepped his boundaries. Nature belongs to _me_.”

 

“That’s not…not fair,” he whispered, clearly struggling to speak.

 

“Nature isn’t,” Seraphina replied with a shrug.

 

“What are you?” he asked.

 

“Didn’t he tell you about me?”

 

“Only…only my name.”

 

“Jack Frost, yes. Well, you see; I am Mother Nature. Nature belongs to me. You shouldn’t exist; you’re an abomination.”

 

“Mother? I thought you…you were a queen. That’s…that’s why I…why I touched your hand.”

 

Seraphina paused and regarded the sprite curiously. A _queen?_ Yes, she supposed with her silk cloak and velvet dress she _might_ be mistaken for a queen. It was almost endearing. Only a child would think of such a thing. “Why would you touch a queen’s hand?” Seraphina asked.

 

Jack coughed, and the thorns cut deeper into his throat. Seraphina hesitantly loosed them around his neck. The sprite made no sense, and Seraphina wanted to understand. Curiosity always was her weakness. “That’s how…your greet queens. You kiss their hand, right? I just…I wanted to be _touched_.”

 

“Touched?” Seraphina echoed.

 

The sprite nodded quickly, and blood trickled down his neck. “No one has ever, ever touched me, and I…I didn’t know it hurt.”

 

He bowed his head, and a sob wracked his body. “It didn’t look like it hurt.”

 

It took Seraphina a moment to realize that the winter sprite thought he was being _punished_. Punished for touching her. Punished because _he_ thought he’d hurt _her_. Seraphina slowly felt her anger fade just a little. “It doesn’t have to hurt, little Snowflake,” she said. “You didn’t hurt me.”

 

He raised his head, eyes questioning. _Then, why are you hurting me?_

“The Man in the Moon,” Seraphina said. “It wasn’t his place to make you.”

 

“That wasn’t my fault,” he whispered. “I just…please, let me go. Let me go, and I’ll never make snow or ice or frost again. I’ll never touch you. I’ll never ask for anything. I don’t want to die.”

 

Seraphina sighed. The Man _would_ create a creature who feared death but didn’t even know what being _touched_ felt like. _Please let him go,_ the wind whispered. _I’ll be good just please please don’t kill jack my jack my sprite._

“One of my winds likes you,” said Seraphina.

 

“I didn’t know she was yours.”

 

Jack shifted uneasily, and Seraphina tightened the vines. The sprite hissed in pain but stopped moving. Part of Seraphina hated it. She hated the sight of the child in pain, the poor child who’d never been touched, who the Man in the Moon had abandoned. Nature was cruel, yes, but it was also marvelous, also kind. Seraphina felt her anger fade away. It wasn’t really his fault, after all. Slowly, she pulled the hood of her cloak away from her face. Then, she offered the boy the brightest smile she could manage. “She’s a good wind,” Seraphina said, “Very merciful.”

 

Seraphina tore the hem of her cloak and let the vines loosen—not too much; she was certain the boy would bolt when he had the chance, but enough that they weren’t making him bleed. Then, she walked slowly to the lake and soaked the material. She returned to Jack, who watched her with hopeful eyes. “You’re not going to kill me?” he asked.

 

Seraphina shook her head and knelt beside the sprite. “I’m sorry,” she said. “See; no one has touched me in a very long time. You just startled me, and I was already angry. I overreacted. I promise I’ll make it up to you. We can start over.”

 

Seraphina carefully unwrapped the vines around one of his wrists and shook his hand. “I’m Mother Nature,” she said.

 

The sprite looked suspicious, but he forced a charming smile and said, “Jack Frost. Do I call you ‘Mother’?”

 

“No, you may call me Seraphina.”

 

Seraphina carefully washed the blood from his wrist, gently to show she meant no harm. “You heal quickly,” she noted.

 

The thorns uncoiled around him, and Jack Frost took a deep breath. His smile was still weak, but he didn’t fight. He let Seraphina clean the blood from his skin, and when she was finished, Seraphina ruffled his snowy locks, smiling fondly. “Better?” she asked.

 

Jack nodded. “We’re…ah, fine?” he asked.

 

“We are.”

 

Seraphina stood and offered him a hand. The sprite hesitated before taking it and letting Mother Nature help him to his feet. “So Jack Frost,” said Seraphina, “What are you? Do you know?”

 

“Jack Frost,” he said, “Since I was born from the lake.”

 

From the lake? Seraphina cast a glance towards the lake. That wasn’t possible. The Man in the Moon, powerful though he was, couldn’t _create_ something. He could remake something, though. Seraphina looked at Jack, really _looked_ at him. His face showed no signs of dishonesty. Had he lost his memories? Lost his memories like—Seraphina thought of her father, her father who ruffled her hair, who helped her chase butterflies, and who’d long lost who and what he was. Strange, very strange. Why had the Man in the Moon done that? Perhaps, there was something more to Jack Frost than simply his winter magic.

 

Seraphina had no plan, not really, but some deep part of her knew that the sprite was _important._ He was her father’s salvation, somehow, someway. She smiled and decided, then, that Jack Frost might’ve been created by the Man in the Moon, but he was _her_ charge. “Come with me, Jack,” she said.

 

Jack laughed nervously. “So you can tie me up again?”

 

“So I can teach you. You don’t have to be lonely, Jack. I can teach you _so much_.”

 

Jack’s eyes darted towards his staff; Seraphina had nearly forgotten it. So that was his magic. Seraphina kept her smile friendly as she brought the staff to her hand with a snap of her fingers. It wasn’t powerful, the staff. It was merely an amplifier, the oxygen to a flame. From the look on Jack’s face, Seraphina had a feeling he didn’t realize that. He thought _that_ was his magic, and he certainly wouldn’t leave the only power and protection he had. “Come with me, Jack,” Seraphina said. “Please.”

 

His eyes darted up to meet hers, and Seraphina smiled. She’d won.


	2. The Truth about Nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Seraphina discovers that Jack Frost is a horrific dancer and tries to teach him that death is part of Nature.

Jack Frost was a flighty creature, and flighty creatures had to be treated delicately. Seraphina knew a bit about flighty creatures; she was the sovereign to many of them. All those creatures were alive, too, but they were alive in a different way from Jack Frost. Animals were simple. They didn’t ask for much, and they fled when they were afraid. Simple. Those, Seraphina understood. Those, Seraphina could predict. Any of those flighty creatures would've seen Mother Nature and _run_ if she'd rendered them powerless. They'd cut their losses and flee. Jack Frost didn't, and in some ways, that was worse.

 

Her plan to take Jack Frost under her tutelage was going horribly. Jack never said or asked about it, but he was forever glancing towards his staff. He was ready to run if he thought he could get it; Seraphina saw it in his eyes and in the tension of his muscles. Seraphina tried being affectionate, tried being friendly, _tried_ to coax the stubborn winter sprite into doing something, _anything,_ other than silently following her. It didn't work. What _had_ she expected, though? She’d threatened to break his neck. Even, she, who operated so far _above_ everyone else and had little time for things like affection and socializing, knew that threatening to kill someone wasn’t the best way to begin a relationship. How could she fix that, though? How could she fix it when Jack still had bruises on his neck where Seraphina had been _so close_ to keeping her word? If she hadn’t been curious, she would’ve ended him. Maybe she pitied him a little, too. Seraphina sat and tried to put words to what she felt. She was Mother Nature; she felt everything and nothing.

 

She felt the blood lust of the thorns, the joy of the wind, the anger of the storms, but those weren’t really _her_ feelings. Those were the feeling of Nature. They belonged to her but weren’t _her_ , and somewhere in that wild maelstrom of feelings and thoughts was a girl named Seraphina Pitchiner, who still loved her father more than anything, who very rarely _pulled_ at Mother Nature, reminding her that she'd been human once.

 

Unfortunately, love for her father was all Seraphina felt. Occasionally, curiosity would appear. Sometimes, anger. It was usually distant, though, unreal. It was as if Seraphina had another person inside her, someone who was too different from her. Someone who was curious and bright and hadn’t wanted her to kill Jack Frost when she really should’ve. The Easter Bunny building himself around spring was bad enough, but she’d allowed it. Now the Man in the Moon had made a winter sprite, and she’d allowed that, too. It wasn't that she blamed Jack for it; the Man in the Moon probably hadn't even asked the boy's consent before remaking him and taking his memories, but it'd be nice if the winter sprite would stop acting like _Seraphina_ was the monster. _Well, that's what happens when you take someone's magic and force them to join you,_ a small part of her chided. _Just because you think he's a little like your father._

 

Yes, that was exactly what happened. It was bizarre and strange and _horrible._

 

Those were the thoughts that consumed Seraphina as she sat in the middle of a frozen forest, Jack’s staff nearby. Jack, himself, kept his distance from her. He followed, obediently, though it was clear to Seraphina—and she suspected to Jack, too—that what they had was an uneasy alliance, if only because Jack didn’t realize that winter was in his blood and not his staff.

 

Cold struck her suddenly, and Seraphina jumped, putting a hand slowly to the back of her head. Mystified, she stared at the snow on her fingertips. She glanced towards Jack, who looked far too innocent. “I hope, my dear, you didn’t just throw that at me,” she said.

 

“You were being boring,” Jack replied flippantly, a cheeky smile on hsi face.

 

“Don’t test Mother Nature,” Seraphina said. “I’m your superior; you know.”

 

“So you make it snow. I can do that.”

 

Seraphina raised an eyebrow. Apparently, Jack was feeling rather feisty. Where had _that_ come from? He’d been quiet and obedient since she’d taken him in, and that’d been a week ago. She’d not seen Jack be _playful_ , and maybe Jack being playful was better than sullen, obedient Jack. His smile faded as he watched her, so Seraphina made sure to grin brightly and reassure him that she wasn't angry. “You think all I can make is snow?” Seraphina asked. “Dear Jack, you have no _idea_.”

 

The earth seemed to stand still for a moment, and all the voices of the earth echoed in Seraphina’s mind. Jack’s bright eyes sparkled. “Is that a challenge?” he asked.

 

“A challenge? Your powers are nothing beside mine.”

 

Jack’s expression could only be described as pouting. Seraphina laughed and considered him thoughtfully. She'd promised to _teach_ the winter sprite; maybe...maybe if he wasn't so powerless, he'd feel better, be more confident and open towards her. Seraphina considered it, remembered that the Man had _tried_ to take part of Nature from her by creating this sprite, and she'd sort of taken that power back--if only temporarily. Would it be better to give it back to the child? Just a little of it? Seraphina weighed her options and leaned closer to Jack. “Have you ever used magic without your staff?” she asked. “You know you can do that, don’t you?”

 

Of course, he didn’t know. Jack frowned. “Really? But I’ve tried. It doesn’t work.”

 

“It doesn’t work because you’ve not been taught how. Magic is in your blood, Jack, but it needs something to be used, an amplifier—like your staff.”

 

“So I use…my blood?” Jack asked.

 

“Not exactly. You use your body. Do you know how to dance?”

 

“I’ve only watched.”

 

“A pity,” said Seraphina, getting to her feet and holding out a hand. “Come on. I’ll show you. As light on your feet as you are, I bet you’re a great dancer.”

 

Jack climbed to his feet, and Seraphina beckoned him closer. “The last time I stood this close to you, you tied me up with vines,” Jack said, eyes suddenly wary.

 

Seraphina smirked. “You looked good like that, too,” she joked.

 

Jack apparently didn’t understand the joke; he simply stared at her like she’d lost her mind. “Well, anyway,” Seraphina said, closing the space between them. “That won’t happen this time. I promise.”

 

She kissed his nose and laughed at his startled expression. “I promise,” she said. “Dancing will be fun.”

 

Seraphina, who’d always been tall, was much taller than Jack, who was comparatively small. Colonists; they never had enough to eat, but they survived all the same. The problem was that it left Jack’s face staring right at Seraphina’s chest. It hardly bothered her. Artists had been depicting Mother Nature as a well-endowed maiden for centuries. No, the problem was that Jack wouldn’t look ahead. He flushed, looking nearly alive with the rush of color in his cheeks. Undoubtedly, it was the lingering remnant of _something_ , some human ideal. Seraphina found herself wondering if her father had those.

 

Maybe it was ridiculous to hope, but hope Seraphina did. Both Kozmotis Pitchiner and Jack Frost were remade into something else. Seraphina’s father didn’t remember anything, and neither did Jack Frost. They were two unrelated incidents and people, but magic was still magic. Shadows and winter weren’t so far apart, and the Man in the Moon, for all his wonder and light, was darkness. He only appeared light because of the sun’s reflection. A reflection of light, a fingerprint of light, a shadow.

 

The obvious solution, of course, was to take Jack to Toothiana. She’d have his memories, but that was cheating. Tooth didn’t have _Kozmotis’s_ memories, so Seraphina needed another way to get them back. She needed something else, something that might work for both Jack Frost and her father.

 

They danced, and Jack was horrible. He tripped over Seraphina’s dress at least eight times before backing away, laughter bubbling from his throat, and said, “I’m really dreadful.”

 

“Everyone’s dreadful when they’re beginning, Jack. If you think you’re dreadful, you should’ve seen my father.”

 

“You had a father?” Jack asked.

 

“Everyone has a father.”

 

Jack gazed upwards to the sky. “I’m two years old,” Jack said.

 

“That’s young,” Seraphina replied.

 

“He’s only spoken to me once,” Jack continued. “Nothing else. He certainly never…”

 

Jack furrowed his brow and shook his head. “What is it?” Seraphina asked.

 

“I don’t know. It feels like he…should be here. I mean, a father should be, but I don’t know _why_ I feel that way. I only know what I see.”

 

“You don’t know much at all, do you?” Seraphina asked quietly.

 

“No,” Jack said, “But it doesn’t matter. I have my frost and my snow; that’s all I need.”

 

Jack grinned and spun in a circle in the snow. He bowed teasingly and winked at Seraphina. “You were teaching me to dance, weren’t you?”

 

“Attempting to.”

 

They tried again, and it wasn’t long before Jack managed to do well enough—not good by any means, but Seraphina’s toes were given a much-needed rest. It was fortunate that Jack didn’t wear any heavy shoes, or she imagined she'd be bleeding. “Now this is where you bring in the snow,” said Seraphina, as Jack spun her almost-elegantly.

 

Seraphina smiled, and snow began to fall. It spun around her, copying her motions. Jack released her hand and watched. _Falling, falling, falling down!_ The snow chanted. _Falling, falling, quick and free! Falling snowflakes, one, two three!_

They tickled her hair, and Seraphina laughed, loving the cold, gentle flurries. Her world was white, and they danced around her, whispering their adoration in their high, child-like rhymes. _Mother Nature, burning bright. Dancing with the snowflakes light, lighter, lighter on her feet._

Seraphina spun again, her hair whipping around her and falling on her shoulders. She paused, smiling, and offered Jack a hand. “It’s _simple_ ,” she said. “Let me show you.”

 

Jack grasped her hand, and Seraphina pulled him into a slow spin with her. “Just feel it, Jack. Imagine cold, beautiful snow. Winter is in your blood. Once you manage it, it’ll be so _simple_.”

 

Seraphina continued to pull him with her, spinning in the snow, leaping over tree roots, and skipping along the rocks at the edge of the lake. The snow twirled around her, fluttering like thousands of tiny, white butterflies. “ _Come on,_ Jack,” she said.

 

He stared at her in wonder, and moments later, he’d figured it out. The snowflakes danced with him as they did with Seraphina, and it was as if the stars had come to Earth. The snow was _beautiful,_ glorious, and perfect. Seraphina laughed from sheer joy and danced. Jack was a better dancer with the snowflakes; it was like he understood, instinctively, what he should do; the snow could guide him. In that instant, Seraphina loved him. She didn’t love him in the same way she loved any person, but in the same way she loved the snow, the winds, and the lightning.

 

His heartbeat, rabbit-fast, echoed in her ears. His laughter was like the birds in the trees. Seraphina felt his power over the snow, weaker than hers but just as lovely, just as important. Frost, his namesake, was really his power, though. The frost spread over the ice, casting flowers and feathers that even Seraphina had to admire. “Beautiful,” Seraphina breathed, her breath puffing over Jack’s neck. “Simply marvelous.”

 

There was wonder in his eyes, and they might’ve stood there an eternity. Jack pulled away suddenly, and the snow halted. Seraphina blinked, unsure what’d ruined the one moment where she felt like the sprite really _was_ part of nature, part of her realm. “Jack?”

 

Jack moved quickly over the ice, weaving through the trees along the banks. “Where are you going?” Seraphina asked.

 

Then, she heard it, the faintest sobbing. Seraphina straightened and followed, slowly and leisurely. Jack’s cries reached her next. “Why are you doing that? Stop it! That’s horrible! S-seraphina!”

 

Seraphina paused behind him, watching. There was a young girl in the snow, fumbling with unlacing her bodice, while Jack tried to grasp her wrists and stop her. “Why are you doing that?” Jack whispered. “Please, please, stop.”

 

Jack tried to unpin his cape and wrap it around her, but it didn’t work. It passed through the girl as easily as Jack did. “Seraphina!” he called.

 

“I’m here,” Seraphina said.

 

Jack spun around, eyes wide. “Do something,” he said. “Help her.”

 

Seraphina’s eyes flickered to the girl, whose fingers held the faintest blue shade to them. “I can’t,” Seraphina said. “She’s dying.”

 

“Dying? She’s not dying! She’s mad! She’s…she’s _removing her clothes_!”

 

“People do that sometimes when they’re freezing to death,” said Seraphina.

 

“Then, we need to make her warm!” Jack exclaimed. “We need to help!”

 

Seraphina shook her head. “We can’t, Jack. Nature is cruel, sometimes. If I could save her I would, but I can’t. There’s only one thing I can do, and that’s make it quicker.”

 

“Quicker?” Jack whispered. “You mean…you want to kill her.”

 

“She’s not long from this world, Jack. In a few minutes, she’ll be able to see you.”

 

Jack’s face was horrified. “But she’s so young,” he said, unshed tears sparkling in his eyes.

 

“I know,” Seraphina said, squeezing Jack’s shoulder, “And it’s sad, but there’s nothing we can do to save her. I can end her suffering, though. I think you probably can, too.”

 

“How?”

 

Seraphina knelt beside the girl and Jack. Then, Mother Nature kissed the girl tenderly on the nose. The girl died. Seraphina heard Jack gasp beside her. “That’s what we are, Jack,” Seraphina said, brushing curls from the girl’s face. “We’re winter. We’re the cold, the dark, and the dead. We can be beautiful. We can usher forth the spring, the new life. We can aid the harvest. Ultimately, though, we’re death. Winter is death, and the power over is death is great, indeed. Be careful how you use it, Jack.”

 

“I don’t think I could ever kill anyone,” whispered Jack.

 

“Even when it’s merciful?” asked Seraphina, turning to gaze at him.

 

He looked away and said nothing. “You’ll discover, perhaps, that some people deserve to die,” Seraphina said.

 

“That doesn’t mean killing is acceptable!”

 

“Jack,” Seraphina said gently, “I don’t know why you were remade this way. I don’t know what your purpose is, but part of winter will always be death. Neither you nor I can change that.”

 

“I don’t  _want_ to be death, and what do you mean _remade_?”

 

Seraphina took a deep breath. “Jack, the Man in the Moon didn’t _make_ you. You already existed. He just made you…” Seraphina waved her hand towards him. “Jack Frost.”

 

“The Man in the Moon isn’t my father,” he said.

 

“No, I’m sorry.”

 

Jack shook his head and paced. Seraphina glanced once more towards the dead girl before moving to take Jack’s hand. “Come now,” said Seraphina. “Let’s go back to the lake.”

 

Seraphina kept her distance as Jack led the way back. She thought he probably wanted to be left alone, and she wasn’t even surprised when she returned to the lake and found him standing at its edge, holding his staff, ready to bolt. The wind waited, though, waited on her mother to give Jack her _approval._ Seraphina felt the North-west flit about her, begging her not to hurt him for wanting to leave. Seraphina waved the wind off. There wasn't really a reason _to_ hurt Jack Frost. He'd agreed to be her student under duress, and it hadn't really been a fair bargain to begin with. “Jack?”

 

He started, eyes wide. “I’m not angry,” Seraphina said. “You need time to figure out what you are, what you want to be. If you need me, I’ll be there. Just promise that someday you will come back. I'm sure...this is difficult for you, but I can still help you, Jack.”

 

Jack nodded once, sharply. _Jack frost! Jack of frost lovely beautiful I love you!_ The North-west wind giggled.

 

“Keep him safe,” Seraphina said, as the wind lifted Jack into the sky.

 

_Always always! Love jack mommy!_

Seraphina pinched the bridge of her nose. Perhaps, she’d made a poor choice, but there was time to figure it out. Mother Nature was nothing, if not patient.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My love and gratitude for all the comments and kudos! 
> 
> So fear not! This isn't the last of Seraphina. Jack's just going off to do a little soul-searching, get into some trouble, meet Santa, go streaking through a certain blizzard...that sort of thing.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired, quite a bit, by this video. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j-fBLw-5nGE
> 
> I just decided to add my own spin on it. Everyone should watch it, though; it's totally great. Also, first story here! No longer will I be a shadowy lurker hiding in the nether regions of the internet.


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